Flighty Spirits
by Sakura-chan79
Summary: Spiriters have the power to sway the world’s future; malideiters have no choice but to consume and be consumed. –BK:EWLO & BKO-
1. A World of Sorrow

**Author's Note: **My God, _Baten Kaitos Origins_ bothers me! So many of the characters are stupid! Like Sagi (sorry to all you Sagi fans…I can't stand him) and Verus (but I have yet to meet someone who likes Verus much at all…). On the other hand, I love Baelheit and it's always sad to kill him. So I came up with this weird idea for a story that includes BOTH games. Yay! So, don't worry, there won't be any character bashing (in case you were wondering…); it's just a weird idea I came up with about spiriters and malideiters thanks to the conversation between Baelheit and Sagi.

There aren't really any pairings, except for a bit of one-sided Lyude/Kalas and some implied Kalas/Xelha. You could say there's father/daughter love between Baelheit/Milly, as well as some Baelheit/Wife and Baelheit/Daimon. Aside from that…there's not much in the way of pairings.

**Summary: **Spiriters have the power to sway the world's future; malideiters have no choice but to consume and be consumed. –BK:EWLO & BKO-

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. End of story.

* * *

"Hey, Kalas! Wait a moment!"

Kalas paused mid-step and turned swiftly to see Lyude hurrying down the golden hall in an attempt to catch up to him. He almost shook his head in disbelief—an emperor _never _ran in his palace; indeed, he wasn't supposed to run at all (the exception being, of course, when he was in battle). But of course, Lyude wasn't one's usual emperor; he grew up in a militaristic household—running was more natural to him than almost anything else. So Kalas supposed his conduct was excusable—he hadn't been an emperor for more than six months yet, so he was still learning. And, Kalas thought belatedly, if he was emperor, Lyude could surely do whatever he wanted and no one would dare say anything against it.

"Lyude," Kalas nodded formally. "I mean, Your Magnificence--"

He waved aside the formalities. "Stop that, Kalas. You're my close friend—there's no need to stand on ceremony to me."

Kalas shrugged. "Whatever you say. But it does seem sort of improper to refer to the emperor by his given name."

Lyude frowned. "You didn't have a problem calling Xelha by her own name," he pointed out, "And she's a queen. So what's the difference?"

"Well, we were fighting for our lives," Kalas grinned, "It was too much of a mouthful to say 'Your Highness' or 'Your Grace' at every moment to her then."

"But you _still _call her by her name," Lyude pressed, "So what's the difference? You're not fighting for your life anymore."

"That's all you know," Kalas muttered, a bit vexed by Lyude's words. He cleared his throat loudly before Lyude could continue. "So, what is it you want?"

Lyude blinked and then nodded, suddenly remembering the purpose of his chasing Kalas down the hall. "Ah, yes. Well, I know that she's gone and I don't want to bring up any painful feelings--" Lyude stumbled over his words awkwardly, not wanting to offend Kalas by bringing up his former spirit companion.

Kalas was not fazed. "Just say it, Lyude."

Lyude took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. Well, you see, I was looking through the Imperial Library the other day, and I came across the research journal of Geldoblame's predecessor." Lyude paused and waited to gauge Kalas' reaction. When he blue-haired man said nothing, he continued "Emperor Baelheit had an extremely short term as emperor. He was popular among the people and won the Imperial Election of the time by a wide margin. He wanted to…ah, 'promachinate' the world, and--"

"Just get to the point, Lyude," Kalas interrupted the redhead impatiently. "I don't need a history lesson on the man."

Lyude's face went bright red. "Sorry. Well, before he became emperor, his own predecessor initiated many projects under his supervision. One was trying to create an artificial spiriter by inserting the still-living pieces of Malpercio into a human's body. At the time, pieces of Malpercio could be found relatively easily around the world; now, because of those experiments, that is no longer the case."

Kalas was interested. Lyude tended to talk a lot, particularly when he was nervous or uncomfortable, but he did seem to have found something interesting. "It sounds similar to the project Geldoblame had my father work on," Kalas mused softly, "'The Divine Child' project: to create a human from a Magnus."

"Yes," Lyude agreed, "But that isn't what I thought you would find the most interesting. He had many journals, but this one in particular discusses the topic of spiriters and malideiters—that's what they called the people who housed pieces of Malpercio within themselves—and the results are rather interesting. Emperor Baelheit himself was a spiriter," Lyude continued with a tone that bespoke awe, "And he personally knew all the malideiters, seeing as he created them. He was a great man, Kalas, and I think his findings might be of some interest to you. Until now, much about spiriters has been unknown."

Lyude had a point. Even if he would not admit it, Kalas' heart was lonely without her warmth to fill it. He almost felt as though he was not quite whole. It was a void now that could not truly be filled, even when he was surrounded by those that he loved. And he really did want to know more about her. He hadn't ever known much at all. "Yes," Kalas nodded, "That does sound interesting."

"Would you like to come read the journal?" Lyude asked tentatively.

"Yes, please."

He looked immensely relieved that nothing he'd said had made Kalas angry with him. Lyude really didn't want to make Kalas feel bad by forcing him to remember her. "This way, then. I left the journal in my study."

The two young men walked silently side by side. The servants (and most of the world) were well aware that these two were good friends. It was a common thing for them to wandering the palace together, laughing and talking, and it rarely was spoken of. Yet this time, they were quiet: Lyude felt almost intrusive beside Kalas, who was clearly lost in a world of his own—a world that still included _her._ Lyude was selfishly glad that he didn't know the pain of losing a spirit, yet he wished that he and everyone else would be enough to fill the void that was left. It wasn't fair that Kalas had to suffer any more—he had already suffered enough.

The study was a very pristine room, with very little gold gilding, to Kalas' immense surprise. Most of the palace (indeed most of Alfard's rich cities) was made almost entirely of gold. But Lyude's study was very plain: deep, shiny redwood replaced the overused gold and only a small bit of that material was used for the window and the edges of the bookcases lining the walls. Kalas admitted to himself that he was surprised: he had come to think that there was no room in the palace without an abhorrent amount of gold.

Lyude stopped in front of the window with his back to Kalas. "The journal is on the desk, Kalas," Lyude said softly, "And I'm sure you'll want to read it alone. So, make yourself comfortable at my desk, but please refrain from poking around in here," Kalas could hear the nervousness in Lyude's voice and he was almost certain the man was blushing. He pushed that aside—it was irrelevant.

"Of course, Lyude," he assured the new emperor, "I won't touch a thing."

Lyude turned with a smile. "Thank you for your understanding," he sounded very relieved, "Now, if you need anything, push that button--" Lyude indicated a small gold button on his left side of his desk, "And my secretary will take your request and see to it immediately." He thought for a moment. "I have a few things to see to, but when you finish, if you contact my secretary, she can fetch me and we could…have dinner together…" he said this last part very softly.

Kalas blinked. "Sure. I haven't seen you in a while, what with being in Wazn all the time."

Lyude's face lit up like a candle. "That's good to hear. Well then, I'll see you later." He saluted formally, and left the study, closing the door softly behind him.

The man was acting quite oddly, Kalas thought absently, but he really hadn't seen Lyude in quite some time, and it would be nice to catch up with him. Not to mention that the palace housed some very talented chefs, and Kalas wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to eat their cooking. He shook his head slightly and sat himself down in the leather chair, focusing his gaze on Emperor Baelheit's journal. It was an inconspicuous looking thing. The pages, which were old but still both gritty and strong, were bound in dyed blue leather with the Imperial Crest of Alfard embossed in silver on the cover. A thin piece of scarlet ribbon marked the place where Kalas supposed was where he was supposed to start.

* * *

_Malideiter Project_

_Day Two, Month One_

_Initiator: Emperor Olgan_

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit _

_This is the second__ day of the 'Malideiter Project' that Olgan has initiated. He has stopped my research on magna mixing in favour of this, and of course, I have no choice but to obey. One cannot defy an emperor so easily. Despite the immense power that a person would have by housing a god inside themselves, I cannot understand why anyone would want such a thing. It is extremely dangerous to tamper with living beings and working with living beings, there is much more that can go wrong than with inanimate objects._

_Still, it is difficult to believe that living pieces of Malpercio—a god already dead a thousand years—still exist in this world. Well, that they exist is not quite as surprising as that they are still living. That goes against all natural laws, all magical laws, and all sense of logic. They should be dead, fossilized completely. That is not the case, however. _

_The pieces we find are simply bone, white with age and smooth from corrosion by the elements. However, these are not normal bones: thin, wiry veins have grown around the bone after the skin had begun to deteriorate completely. It goes against all sense that this should happen: yet it does. The muscles, the skin: everything except for the bone and the veins decomposed hundreds of years previously. We suppose that the reason for this strange phenomenon has something to do with a burning desire for survival that the gods possessed that have survived from ancient times. That desire went so deeply, that it remained within the very bones and blood of those gods._

_We have first begun experimenting with the bones themselves. We found that cutting with a knife through a vein does nothing to stop it from surviving: an abnormally fast healing occurs at the site of the injury and within minutes, the vein was as good as new, without having lost a great deal of blood. Even multiple wounds were healed quickly and efficiently by some strange force. We again say it must be the desire for survival that has remained with the bones. _

_After the vein we cut had healed completely, we took the bone and tried to harm that. No weapon could do any damage to it. Natural elements, such as fire, ice, electricity, did no damage either. The bones, it seems, are hard as rock and smooth as marble. _

_These bones, of course, can be nothing less than Malpercio's remains. No other remains, human or beast, are like this. These have a strange feeling about them, a strangely potent desire to survive, that has never been felt around other dead remains. _

_Our experiments on the bones will continue for the next two weeks, so that we are sure that nothing can harm the bone and that the veins can heal themselves infinitely. _

* * *

Kalas paused. This was very strange indeed, and rather horrific. He shivered to even imagine a piece of Malpercio in his body. His memories of the evil god were all too vivid, too real for him to ever consider such a thing. As Lyude had said, although Baelheit had not yet stated it outright, it indeed seemed like this Emperor Olgan wanted an artificial spiriter. No doubt, Kalas thought sourly, the man had not realized spirits could only found and bonded to in Nekton. And that was only if you were lucky. Spirits didn't choose just anyone who wandered in. This project disgusted Kalas, but he felt compelled to read further, to find out how it ended, as it surely must have. If Kalas knew anything, dealing with Malpercio was never a good thing, and while it always ended, it never ended prettily.

* * *

_Malideiter Project_

_Day 16, Month One_

_Initiator: Emperor Olgan_

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit _

_The experiments have gone smoothly.__ We have concluded that indeed, there is nothing that can harm the bones and veins irreparably. The longest time it took for a vein to repair itself was a mere two and a half hours. The shortest time was thirty seconds. It is amazing that such healing is possible. Is it possible that the test subjects will have these same healing capabilities if these experiments work? We can hypothesize that yes, such a thing is possible, but it greatly depends on the variables._

_We have yet to decide how to fuse the god's remains into a living human's body. There are several possible ways, but we are reluctant to try them. There is great risk to the test subjec__ts as well as us experimenters, however we cannot stall for very much longer; Emperor Olgan is impatient to see his work come to success._

_One possible way is to drain all the blood out of the veins. By draining the god's blood all at once, we have discovered that the veins will wither and die. We have examined this blood in Lab 009-8 and found all the natural properties of blood, as well as inherent magic and something else we have been unable to explain. We think this may possibly be the spirit of the god resides now in the blood instead of the heart, which decomposed centuries ago. The blood is the closest thing the spirit of the god has to a home. If this is the case, infusing the god's blood into a human's bloodstream will allow it to travel throughout the host's body and the spirit would make its way to the heart, bond with it, and in theory, we would have then created an artificial spiriter: the god would have no __control over the body but it would be able to influence the decisions of the host body and grant guidance and powerful magic to said body._

_A second way would be to implant the veins into the body entirely. This would be an extremely difficult procedure, however, and would likely result in the death of the test subject, and probably others besides. Removing the natural veins of the host body in favour of the god's veins would have a much higher failure rate than by simply infusing the god's blood into the human's bloodstream. _

_We contemplated inserting the bone and veins into the host body, but this idea was tossed aside. The bone is not necessary because it does not hold any special properties aside from its durability. It is the veins that are the important part, and they only need the bone for safety. They are like ivy, which needs to grow on something, but unlike plants, the veins of a god would never grow around anything except a stable piece—like a bone—of the god. Aside from that, these are not natural veins—natural veins do not grow so strangely and by implanting bone and veins, we would likely injure the host beyond repair, and possibly kill the host._

_We must run several more tests on the blood before we start the actual experimentation, but we will start the first experiment no later than the middle of next month._

_--_

_Malideiter Project_

_Day 7, Month Two_

_Initiator: Emperor Olgan_

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit _

_Plans must progress faster than we had anticipated. The Emperor insists that we start these experiments and will not hear of our further testing the blood. Working with such unstable substances and variables, we cannot afford to be rushed. Any number of things could go wrong, but he insists and we must obey. We have obtained several vials of blood now, and so we now only await the test subjects the Emperor said he would procure for us. _

_This experimentation is extremely tiring. I have been spending more and more time here in the labs than in my own home with my wife and daughter. I miss them terribly. They live so close to here and I hardly ever see them—Olgan be damned! If anything were to happen to them…I don't know what I would do. _

* * *

Kalas sighed. These experiments seemed harmless now, but it appeared Baelheit was well aware of the possible consequences of dealing with a dead god like Malpercio. He had skipped pages—mostly short entries about the details of the blood they were testing. Kalas had no need to read those. He didn't care about what they found in the blood—he wanted to know how it ended.

* * *

_Malideiter Project_

_Day 10, Month Two_

_Initiator: Emperor Olgan_

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit _

_The test subjects have arrived. We have twenty subjects currently, from newborn infants to full-grown adults. We have ten males and ten females. I was surprised to see Shanath, Olgan's own son and heir to the throne, here until I realized that Olgan wanted a son more powerful than any other person in the world to take his throne. He wants to create a legacy by way of his son and his experiments. A foolish ambition, I think, but who am I to question anything? I only do as I am told. _

_Tomorrow, we will begin with a man from Sadal Suud, age twenty-two and a former servant in the royal palace. _

_--_

_Malideiter Project_

_Day 11, Month Two_

_Initiator: Emperor Olgan_

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit _

_We have infused the blood of the god into the bloodstream of Host 001-O (name: Otto). It has been three hours since and the host has not yet woken up from his drug-induced slumber. We are not sure why this is the case; we used only the necessary amount of anaesthesia to lull him to sleep, and he should have woken at least an hour ago. _

_This is no doubt due to the after effects of the procedure. The god is the most unstable part of the experiment and we do not know what to expect. We must hope that nothing has yet gone horribly awry. _

_--_

_Malideiter Project_

_Day 27, Month Two_

_Initiator: Emperor Olgan_

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit_

_To date, we have lost five hosts (001-O, 003-A, OO7-L, 015-Y, 020-G). Two were female, three were male. This suggests that females have a greater chance of success of infusion, although that is still difficult to solidly prove. Of the lost hosts, four were adults, one was a child. This would suggest that the younger the infusion occurs, the more likely chance there is of success. We suspect that they died because the blood did not mix properly with the host's natural blood and thus the god did not properly bond with the heart. A second possibility is that the host body's rejected the god entirely and their internal systems malfunctioned when the god tried to bond with their hearts.  
__  
__The other fifteen hosts have been placed in confined quarters. It would be most unwise at this stage to allow them to interact with each other. The hosts are still very unstable themselves, and reactions among themselves could be devastating. Of the hosts, only one has yet to awaken, and this has us worried. He was the final subject to be infused with the god's blood, and that was five days ago. If he does not wake within five more days, we will have to assume that that experiment has gone awry as well and we will dispose of him ourselves._

* * *

Kalas squinted at the words on the following page. Unlike what he had previously been reading, this calligraphy was sloppy and near illegible. Ink had run on the page and there were several ink blots. It made reading difficult, but he persevered: the end was here.

* * *

_Malideiter Project_

_Day 4, Month Three_

_Initiator: Emperor Olgan_

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit _

_Host 009-P woke two days ago—he was the only host to have an obvious poor reaction to the blood transfusion. He did not die quietly in his sleep as the other five did—he went quite mad and transformed into an ugly beast we referred to as Malpercio's Afterling. It was absolutely horrible. The other hosts were in much more stable conditions, but they were close to the testing facility. We could not afford to allow them to see this beast for fear that they too would change forms. _

_The beast destroyed the entire lab where we had moved him for further examination the day before. He killed seven Imperial Elite guards and injured twelve others…My wife and my daughter…they had come to bring me lunch…and that beast…it…it…_

_That beast killed my wife. It tore my daughter apart, leaving her bleeding on the floor and on the brink of death. My wife gone…my daughter—soon to be three!—almost dead…I was devastated. How could this happen? It took twenty more guards to subdue and kill the beast. Its remains were burned and the ashes scattered to the winds. But it had wreaked havoc. I took my poor daughter and had her wounds healed as best as I could. The vast majority of her body was gone and her blood level was so low that I didn't think she would survive. The best healers in the Empire managed to stop her bleeding and I had her put in a life support unit. It was all I could do. I had my wife cremated shortly thereafter._

_Olgan called a halt to the experiments as soon as he heard about the destruction. He blamed me for the failure of his project—how was it my fault? I was not the fool who wanted to create an artificial spiriter! If I had refused, he would have had me executed: one does not refuse the emperor. And yet, his failure ended up on my shoulders: I have lost everything, thanks to him. _

_I am on my way to Mira, now. A world that shifts dimensions: it is a perfect place for one such as I. I could not remain in Alfard where my wife died and my daughter soon will—what kind of a man am I? My wife gone, my daughter almost dead…how could I have prevented that? How could I have saved them, if I had been able to save anyone? By being executed, I suppose. But even so, Olgan would have found another to head the project, and my family would still have died. There was no other way; no other choice._

_--_

_Promachination Project_

_Day One, Month One_

_Initiator: Baelheit _

_Overseer and Director: Baelheit_

_I was ready to die in Nekton. I wanted to die. There was nothing left in the world for me. Olgan had set those abominations free just before I had fled the Empire. The products of my stained hands: now they run free around the world. Stars only know what will happen with them free in the world. I cannot allow them to be free. They must be disposed of, one by one, before they destroy the world entirely. _

_But I am not alone now. Nekton, the place where I was ready to die, changed me. Legends have always said that Nekton was the most supernatural place in all of Mira—probably in all the world. I hadn't really believed those legends before. _

_Daimon is with me now. She understands me better than anyone else. Olgan wanted an artificial spiriter; what is better than a real one? That old fool…he would be ecstatic to learn of this. I won't ever tell him, however. I will never give him the satisfaction of learning the truth about me. _

_Spiriters, they say, have the power to change the world. Spiriters can change the future. This world is corrupt, full of people like Olgan. We rely on unstable things, like hearts and magic. Who is to say that these things won't fail us one day? Magic that keeps the Islands floating in the Sky…who's to say that magic won't fail sometime in the future? If that happens…it won't be just one or two people who die…who are hurt. It will be everyone. All because we rely on such unstable things._

_If we relied on ourselves…if we relied on our own sheer will, our own scientific achievements, wouldn't we be safer? My wife would not be dead if we hadn't tampered with magic, with things we didn't understand. My daughter would not be little more than a sack of blood and bones if we hadn't tried to make a god out of a human. If we had continued to develop our technology, we would have been safe. If we had continued to develop things that are pre-programmed, things that can be controlled and replaced…then, perhaps we would be safe. Controllable things are safe. Dealing with living beings always comes with a price: dealing with a living yet dead god comes with an even higher price. Technology does not._

_My destiny is to change the world, if the legends of spiriters can be believed. I think that they can be. I have never felt so powerful, so able to do things. Daimon and I…we will develop the technology called 'machina' further, so far that it can be used for anything and everything. It will be lifesaving—my daughter will have a new body—one that can be fixed if it is broken and she will live out her life as any other person. It will improve the safety of our lives: people will no longer have to do laborious or dangerous jobs. Life will attain a degree of safety never before dreamed of._

_This life comes with a price, of course. The floating Islands will have to be destroyed—magic has no place in a world of machina. Heartwings will be removed—what use are they in a world of machina? A new floating Island—one made entirely of machina—will be created. Everyone will be able to live there in complete comfort and safety. What more could anyone want? Money will be unnecessary: people will have what they need to live and more. Nothing could be more desirable. There will be equality—no one will become like Olgan, who want more and more because they will have anything and everything they ever dreamed of, thanks to machina. _

_This is what I want to do. I want to save the world from itself, and I will stop at nothing to achieve this. Daimon is with me; with her, how could I possibly fail? Two hearts are joined as one—together, as one person, we will save this world from itself. _

_That is our destiny._

* * *

It took Kalas a moment to realize he had come to the end of the journal. There was nothing more to read, nothing more to say what happened to the released hosts. Surely something must have happened. He could not believe that nothing had gone wrong _after_ they were released. There had to be more to this story than what was written in the journal.

He pushed the gold button Lyude had indicated to him earlier—how long had he been reading?—and after a moment, a woman's cool voice sounded from the little speaker installed in the desk, just above the button. "Yes sir?"

"Er…His Magnificence told me to contact you when I finished in here…" Kalas mumbled, "And we're supposed to have dinner together…could you…get him for me?"

"Of course, sir," the woman's voice said neutrally. "He will be there soon."

Kalas nodded before realizing that she couldn't see that. He didn't bother saying anything though. He wondered if Lyude knew how the story ended. He hoped so—it was so intriguing, so similar to Kalas' own story that he simply _had_ to know how it ended.

Lyude appeared within ten minutes with a smile. "Did you enjoy the journal?" he inquired politely as he led Kalas to his private dining room.

"Very much," Kalas affirmed. The scent of roasted meat and cooked vegetables caught in his nose and he inhaled swiftly. His stomach rumbled loudly and Lyude chuckled. "Although I am quite hungry."

"So I hear," Lyude said.

Kalas wasted no time in loading his plate with delicacies. After so long in Wazn—where the food was indeed very good although nothing like the wonderful food here in Alfard—it was good to have the chance to eat hot meal again. That wasn't very common in Wazn—cold weather meant cold foods since the hot foods cooled very quickly in the low temperatures.

"Lyude," Kalas said, "There must be more to the story than what was written in the journal. It wasn't so much as an ending as a beginning…what happened to those malideiters who were set free? How did Baelheit's promachination dream end? There must be more."

Lyude looked thoughtful and twirled his silver fork in his fingers. "There is," he said, "But it was not recorded by Baelheit. Everything he described, he did. He created a floating island of machina and he did intend to destroy each of the islands. He hunted down most of the malideiters and had them killed—oddly enough, almost hypocritically, he used the beasts he hated so much to give extra power to his island. But there were many who stood in his way."

"Like who?" Kalas asked through a mouthful of potato.

"King Ladekhan," Lyude replied, "Queen Corellia, and Lord Rodolfo all did. Mira, by luck, was never under a threat of promachination for some unknown reasons—I suspect because Baelheit probably felt tied to it because that was where he met Daimon—so Lord Calbren never stood with the other leaders against him. Emperor Baelheit's own daughter actually went against him and so did a malideiter Baelheit had been unable to track down. Together with a talking puppet—that I learned from the Great Kamroh originated in Duhr—they stood against him and defeated him."

"I see…so what happened to that malideiter?"

"He lived out the rest of his days in Mira with Baelheit's daughter." Lyude paused to sip his wine. "Do you remember when we stayed in Lord Calbren's mansion before Melodia took us to Mintaka?"

Kalas nodded. How could he forget that night when so many things had been set into motion?

"Well, I explored their library while we were there, and found a diary. It was the diary of that malideiter. You may find it interesting. He talks about the differences between a spiriter and a malideiter, you see. He unknowingly finishes the tale Baelheit leaves unfinished."

Kalas stared at Lyude. "Is that so…"

"Yes."

"I think I will pay a visit to Mira, then. I would like to know what happened, in the very end," Kalas mused softly.

"I don't know if that diary will give you the answers you are seeking," Lyude said quietly, "I hope that it can answer what Baelheit was unable to."

Kalas smiled gently. "Baelheit was a great help to me, Lyude. Thank you for showing that to me. I understand a bit more now about what it means to be a spiriter. I realized that I could change the world's future—and indeed my own future—only if I chose to. And I learned that there will always be those who will stand in my way. But Baelheit persevered and so did I. We both wanted to die, Lyude, and we both almost accomplished that in Nekton. We are like mirror images of each other. Although it seems my story has a happy ending, where his did not."

"Perhaps. I think that time will tell the answer to that." Lyude grinned and held his goblet aloft. "To spiriters."

Kalas grinned back. "To spiriters."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I took a ton of artistic license with all that experiment stuff. They never explained it in the game if my memory serves. And don't any of you scientific people tell me any of that was wrong—I'm not at all scientific, and this is a fictional game so anything goes XD I think it made sense though. They never explained how the god got inside the host so…I made it up as logically as I could. I hope you liked it though, logical or not.


	2. Deep Sea of Tears

**Author's Note:**

Late, I know. I'm bad author. Seriously, between school and school and school...well, there's no time for anything. I hope you guys enjoy this though, seeing as I kept re-starting it (that didn't help the lateness of it...).

Also, please note that I will be calling Sagi's spirit "Marno".

**Summary: **Spiriter's have the power to sway the world's future; malideiters have no choice but to consume and be consumed. –BK:EWLO & BKO—

**Disclaimer: **I wouldn't have to work to pay for my education if I owned _Baten Kaitos. _

* * *

Duke Calbren's manor home loomed in front of Kalas with a strange air of stillness. Despite the bright sunlight of the day, the rather large and overgrown gardens and the guards patrolling the manor grounds, it seemed as if everything was stepping quietly, as if to not disturb something—or someone. Even the birds were silent, unusual for such a lovely day in Balancoire. It gave Kalas the chills to simply stand at the end of the long, multicoloured drive leading to the front doors of the manor. He was never one to feel comfortable about stillness—and this stillness was almost that of living death.

Kalas suppressed a grimace as he walked up the drive and let his eyes wander up the house and gaze into the windows. He thought he saw a feminine form in one of the upper windows, but the figure was gone so quickly it could have been his imagination. Kalas didn't think it was, though. He was certain it wasn't his imagination. He dropped his gaze rather suddenly from scanning the house and quickened his steps. It felt eerie here, and it made him want to hurry his visit. He had no wish to linger here, not like he once did. Once, this home was livelier, more vibrant. Yet its iridescence was lost; it had vanished with her lost innocence, her lost unknowingness.

He felt for her, he had cried for her. But she was no longer his main concern. He had other concerns now, other losses to cry for. But the most important one was the one he could shed no tears for. The most important loss was the one he could not accept, and could not understand. Would this visit change that? Kalas did not know. He hoped it would, but he did not know.

The guards at the entrance nodded to him, but they said nothing. Speaking would shatter the silence that was so usual now, so expected. That was unacceptable. They merely stepped aside and opened the doors for him. A butler hurried forward as Kalas entered and silently conducted him to a receiving room off to the side. The utter silence of the house made Kalas want to scream, but he managed to suppress the urge. How could anyone live like this? It was unnatural, unthinkable. Yet they _did _live like this. Kalas could not understand it.

He eased himself down into a soft chair, but he kept his senses alert. There was no discernable reason for it, except that he felt the need to be on guard here. He shouldn't have felt like that but he did—it was the stillness, the silence, the living death that permeated the place that made if feel more like Cor Hydrae than the illustrious Calbren manor. He hated that analogy, but there it was. There was no reason, no point, in denying the truth. It was more a dungeon than anything else now.

It was not a long wait before Lord Calbren himself arrived in the room to greet Kalas. The man looked more aged since the last time Kalas had seen him, although perhaps that was only to be expected. With his granddaughter once more under his care, with her new knowledge of his actions, it was only to be expected that their once strong relationship would have become strained. Such a thing would have pained anyone.

"Kalas, it is good to see you!" Lord Calbren said in a voice that seemed raspier than before. He briefly embraced Kalas. "It is very kind of you to visit."

"I'm sorry to come on such short notice, sir," Kalas said humbly.

Lord Calbren waved that away. "You needn't worry about such things, Kalas. You are always welcome here. How could it be otherwise, after all you've done for my precious Melodia?"

Kalas shifted his weight uncomfortably. "How is she doing, sir?"

Lord Calbren's face sagged slightly and seemed as if a great grief had suddenly fallen heavier upon his shoulders. "Not well, Kalas," he said softly. "Not well at all. She rarely leaves her room now and speaks to no one. She stares out her window most of the day, sometimes she reads, but mostly she sits and does nothing."

"I am sorry to hear that," Kalas said genuinely. "Is there...?"

Lord Calbren shook his head. "No, Kalas. There is nothing anyone can do. I appreciate your offer, but no. This is something she must deal with on her own."

"She may never deal with it," Kalas said sadly.

"She is dealing with it," Lord Calbren disagreed. "She simply may never accept it, never forgive me for it. In fact, I would be quite surprised if she _did _accept it, or if she _did _forgive me."

"I'm sure she will, sir," Kalas said. "Melodia loves you; she would never _not_ forgive you. It will take time, but I know that she will."

Lord Calbren smiled slightly. "You did not come here to speak of Melodia," he chided lightly. "And I advise you not to speak to her either; she will not respond. Leave her to herself, and do what you came here for." Kalas nodded and Lord Calbren continued. "On that desk there is the book you requested. The author is someone I knew well. I am sure you will find his...writings rather interesting."

"Thank you sir. You don't know how much this means to me..."

"I understand a small portion," Lord Calbren said. "I, too, have suffered a similar loss. I suffer that loss every day of my life. Stay as long as you wish, Kalas. If you need anything, attendants are always on hand."

"Thank you," Kalas said again. He inclined his head to the elderly Lord of Mira. Lord Calbren smiled slightly, softly, and silently left the room.

Kalas seated himself carefully at the desk Calbren had indicated that stood beside a large window. The sun shone in and gave the old volume a mysterious look. It was simple, bound in blue leather and with no wording anywhere on the cover. Upon opening it, Kalas read on the inside cover, in rather spidery and messy script: _This diary is the property of Sagi. _There was nothing else.

Sagi. Kalas savoured the name, whispered it, and let it roll of his tongue, to make this man seem more real. Lyude had not precisely said exactly what Kalas would find in this diary, other than a few vague mentions of Baelheit's unfinished tale and a few entries on spiriter's and malideiters. Kalas flipped to the first entry.

* * *

_Day Thirteen, Month Five_

_Today is sunny. We have been living here in Lord Calbren's manor, in the north end of Balancoire, for a little more than a week. Milly loves it here. She is planning a trip of the Island, so we get to know the inhabitants, the customs, and all that sort of stuff. She seems very happy, but I'm not sure that's the case. All this planning, all this rushing around—she's merely trying to keep herself busy, to keep from crying._

_I wish I could help her. Even if the things he did were wrong, Baelheit was her father and she loved him. He _did _save her life with his machina after all. But now she won't let herself cry. I wish Guillo were here as well. He would be able to get her to cry, to let it out. He was always able to get along with her in a strange sort of way. He would know what to do._

_Baelheit...Somehow, after that fight with him, after hearing him speak and hearing his tale...I can't bring myself to hate him. What he did was wrong, but...he did it with the best intentions. He wanted to save _all _people, better _everyone's _lives. Not just the people of Alfard, but those of Sadal Suud, and Diadem, Anuenue, Mira...everyone. He was a very strong man, a very powerful man. Not everyone would be willing to try to save all people. I don't think he was an evil man—not like Verus. He was not evil, not driven by pure ambition. _

_Was that because of Daimon?_

_It is hard to say; even Marno says he does not know. The natures of spirits and those of Malpercio are very different. While both give the host powers beyond anyone's imagining the two operate in very different ways. _

_It is hard to say but...somehow, I don't think it was just Daimon's influence. I think Baelheit was always like that, and that part of him was at the very core of his being. He had a true goal, and he never lost sight of it, and always worked towards it. That is the difference between Verus and Baelheit: Baelheit had a goal, and worked for it, for the good of all. Verus was selfish. _

* * *

_Day Seventeen, Month Five_

_Milly has arranged our tour of Mira to begin tomorrow. She still hasn't cried about the death of her father. It's not healthy. I will see if I can help her with that. She needs to let it out. It worries me that she hasn't; she is so strong, but it is all right to cry, to give over to grief._

* * *

_Day Twenty-Four, Month Five_

_I left my diary behind during our trip. Interesting—and fun—though it was I haven't any wish to go on another any time soon (Reverence Village _scares _me). _

_Milly has finally given over to her grief. She has taken to wearing black, apparently a custom on Mira when one is in mourning. She still tries to be strong, but she cries often now. She bursts into tears every time she sees Guillo's helmet on the desk—when I tried to cover it with a piece of cloth however (so she wouldn't have to cry every time she looked at it...or me, either...it's hard to believe I still have tears to shed!) she nearly knocked me out with her cudgels. I sure won't make that mistake again._

_Marno, of course, found the whole scenario rather amusing. Seeing as she was crying while she was attacking me, I don't really see the amusement in the situation, but apparently it was there. _

* * *

Kalas had to pause periodically to make out the words. Sagi's writing was not nearly as neat or as elegant as Baelheit's had been. Even the way he wrote was a completely different style than the late Emperor Baelheit. Yet, it held a certain charm that captured Kalas' interest. Even though he had no real interest in Sagi's private life, he read a few of the passages anyway. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why, but he felt he needed to.

He assumed, since it had not been stated, that Marno was the piece of Malpercio within Sagi. It made him shudder slightly to imagine a piece of Malpercio within Sagi—within anyone—and then the thought made him painfully aware of his own lack of an invisible partner. He was still having a hard time accepting her leaving, even with the support of all his friends. It simply wasn't the same anymore. Why couldn't she have stayed with him forever?

* * *

_Day Four, Month Six _

_Baelheit's birthday is coming, so Milly tells me. We're planning a memorial for him. It will just be us, Marno and Guillo. Just like it always was. I don't really know what it will entail, but it is only right. We need to remember him, not just because he was Milly's father but also because he was the only true spiriter of the whole adventure. He was the only man who had real goals and strove to achieve them, to better the lives of all people. Even if he went about it in the wrong ways, it is still important to honour those simple facts. They illustrate his true grace, his true sincerity. _

_He was different...he and Daimon did make a great team. They were strong-willed, powerful...it is hard not to praise them, in some ways. They achieved more than any Emperor before them, and quite possibly more than any that will come after. They changed not only the history of Alfard, but that of the very world itself. I suppose that it's true, that old saying: Spiriter's have the power to sway the world's future. Baelheit and Daimon certainly did. _

* * *

_Day Ten, Month Six_

_The memorial was yesterday. I think it gave Milly a sense of peace, and will help her accept what happened. She will always be sad, always mourn, but she will be able to move on. We can move on together. _

_Tomorrow, I plan to ask her to marry me. I'm really nervous, but Marno has been constantly asking me why I haven't yet, since I bought the ring quite some time ago. I'm just nervous is all...and it's such a sad time, I don't want to interrupt her mourning. But...I don't feel like I can wait any longer. I need to go through with it. _

_Tomorrow..._

* * *

The next few entries were so illegible that Kalas didn't even try to read them. He presumed that this Milly must have accepted Sagi's proposal, and that the utter excitement had rendered him incapable of legible writing.

Kalas wondered what else Sagi had to say on the subject of spiriters and malideiters. The book was not that thick and he would soon be approaching the half-way point. Flipping ahead, he'd noticed that the entries would begin to become more infrequent until they stopped altogether, with many pages left blank.

* * *

_Day Twenty-Seven, Month Six_

_Ever since Milly accepted my proposal, I've felt a sudden desire to delve into the lives of spiriters in hopes of understanding her father better, and ultimately, understanding Milly better. What better place to research than in Mira? This is the place—the only place—where spiriters are made. And it's not any sort of artificial experiment either: it's real. _

_It all has to do with magic, or so my research has been telling me. Marno agrees; he's a spirit, albeit of a much different kind, but the processes of bonding are probably very similar. They require not only a host with whom the spirit is compatible, but also a great deal of magic. Mira itself is really the epitome of magic; it is in the very air we breathe here. _

_Of course, a lot of the books and documents I'm researching include a lot of useless fiction too. Probably because none of the authors were real spiriters and they didn't know any. A lot of it is speculation when it is not outright fictional writing. It takes a long time to read through it all, and come up with some real ideas that could quite possibly be true. Even I can't vouch for them: I am not a spiriter._

_

* * *

_

Day Three, Month Seven

_It's so busy around here now. It's a flurry of activity to get ready for the wedding. Milly threw a fit earlier because I invited Lolo—I thought they were friends. Oh well...Women are confusing. _

_In regards to my research...there isn't much left to look through. I've combed Lord Calbren's library quite thoroughly now, and his is the best in the country. So I'll be finished soon. It is too bad that Baelheit died...I would love to discuss this issue with him, with a real spiriter. What is it like? How does it feel? That sort of thing._

* * *

His hands trembled as he turned the page over. Kalas knew what it was like, how it felt. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world, sharing your heart with a spirit-partner. It was intimate, close, and sweet. No one else, not even Xelha, who he was closest to now and loved very much, could ever replace or replicate the feeling of a spirit bonded to the heart. It was a feeling that was indescribable, unknowable unless you yourself were a spiriter.

The feeling of passionate love, overwhelming desire, unstoppable power...such things were normal when bonded with a spirit. A spirit was like an incorporeal lover, one you could never touch, never caress and yet you were closest to that spirit. No other relationship could compare. It was as if your soul had never been whole, and in that brief span of time, it was. People always spoke of finding their soulmate somewhere among the Island dwellers. Kalas knew better; a soulmate was literally that: a spirit attached to your heart—to your very soul. Living, breathing people were a poor substitute for that, even those you loved the most and knew you could never live without. But it was not the same.

It was never the same.

* * *

_Day Eight, Month Seven_

_Milly has gone to be fitted for her wedding gown. In these few moments to myself, I felt the need to record the last of what I discovered in searching through Lord Calbren's library. _

_As I stated before, magic is indeed necessary for bonding, but where Malpercio is forcibly bonded to a person, spirits choose their host. In both cases, it is necessary for the host to be compatible with the spirit within them. Spirits simply cannot bond an incompatible host; Malpercio, however, was forced to bond hosts, and this resulted in chaos because few people in the world are compatible with the spirits in Nekton, much less with those remnants of Malpercio. Those who were completely incompatible could not keep from becoming Afterlings for very long; those who were compatible to any degree were able to hold off the transformation, although (as I experienced) forceful, passionate emotions can unleash the transformation as well._

_Since spirits only bond with compatible hosts, do not have such problems. Their goals and thought-processes are often similar, I would think, and that allows for harmonious relationships. Of course, hosts must also accept the spirit's bond for it to be possible at all—Malpercio has no choice, but natural spirits cannot bond even a compatible host unless the other party agrees. _

_The difference comes with the termination of the bond. Malpercio can, so Marno and I have come to conclude, remain bonded to their host for an infinite amount of time (in other words, when the host dies, so too does the remnant of Malpercio). Spirits, however, can only remain bonded for a specific amount of time—while this could be many years, eventually the bond must end._

_This is probably because spirits are not of this world. Malpercio is a part of this world—while Malpercio existed thousands of years earlier, they were of this world. Spirits, however, are found and bonded with in Nekton, the Shrine of Spirits here in Mira. And, as everyone knows, Mira shifts its dimension and thus is always connected to unknown worlds even when it is here, in our world. The boarder between dimensions is so thin in Nekton that spirits are able to find their way here, and bond with any compatible host who comes their way. But, because their physical bodies live elsewhere, in another dimension, they are eventually called back to their own world. _

_Thus, the reason "spiriters have the power to sway the world's future" must be other person in this world to their host. Because they are of another world, spirits are unexpected twists in the pattern of this world—they change it because they are unexpected. Malpercio was expected, was known—being of this world, Malpercio only consumes and is consumed—malideiters use Malpercio's power to destroy their enemies and are eventually consumed by it. They use Malpercio's power recklessly, until they transform into a grotesque Afterling and are consumed by the spirit of Malpercio within them. There is no un-bonding with Malpercio—it's a done deal, until the day you die._

_Of course, there are exceptions with malideiters (me, being one: I was not consumed because Marno and I were able to reconcile ourselves and work together as _one_ being, rather than two, which is how spiriters operate: they work together, as one being, thus they are not often at odds and can accomplish great things). Naturally then, there must be exceptions with spiriters—what if they are compatible together, and they bond, but are unable to come to agreements about some important subjects? What would happen then? It is hard to say...there are no conjectures on the subject nor anyone to question about it. _

_Therefore, we can conclude that spirits are "flighty" because they cannot remain with their host forever, but they can sway the future because they are unexpected twists in the fated pattern of the world. Malideiters are the opposite in every respect for the simple reason that Malpercio existed in this world and continues to exist. Malpercio, unlike spirits, is not outside of the world's pattern. _

_One day, perhaps, I will be able to meet another spiriter. Perhaps then we can discuss the nature of their relationship and I will be able to revise these theories. I hope that is possible someday._

* * *

Sagi's diary ended there. It was much shorter than Baelheit's had been, but full of such wonderful and haunting points that Kalas found himself staring at the same page for several more minutes.

Kalas was an exception to spiriters: they very one Sagi has wondered about. What happened when a spirit and compatible host were bonded but could not agree on something? Kalas laughed bitterly to himself, trying to keep his tears from falling. When that happened, the host did _anything_ to get their way. Even if it meant harming the one they were closest to, the one who knew them the best.

"Finished, have you?"

Kalas's head shot up suddenly and he awkwardly wiped his tears away. "Melodia?" he sputtered in surprise.

Melodia was leaning against the wall opposite from him, beside the closed door. She wore the same white dress she always did but it was still a bit of a shock to see her blue-turquoise coloured hair. Her skin was as pale as ever, her eyes still as hard and cold as precious gems. Her whole demeanour exhibited her anger, her pain, and her utter frailty. She was glaring at him. Glaring at the world, really. "Did you enjoy what you read?" she asked in a softly dangerous tone.

"I found it interesting," he said warily.

"That is not the same thing."

"I enjoyed it. Why?"

Melodia glided over to the desk and picked up the journal with a look resembling disgust. Her thin fingers held it as if it were a poisonous snake or perhaps dripping of something very foul. "You miss her. You want to know why she had to leave."

"And I found my answer."

"Perhaps," she said dismissively. "Perhaps not. Malideiters," she said condescendingly, "Should not speak on subjects with which they are not familiar and can never understand. Speculations and conjectures are nothing to go by."

"But his points were accurate," Kalas countered.

"How would I—or anyone else—know that?" Melodia whispered. "You—a former spiriter—can know it, but how can anyone else ever take those theories for truth? Why write anything if no one else can believe it?"

"What is wrong, Melodia?" Kalas asked. He stood up slowly, so as to not alarm her.

She returned her hard, cold gaze back to him. "The world is wrong!" she hissed, "_I_ am wrong!" She hurled the book toward the window, but her arm was weak and her throw was poor. It landed on the floor a few feet away. Hot, angry tears spilled down her ivory cheeks, and spoiled the face that would have been lovely if it were not contorted with anger and hate.

Kalas pulled her into an embrace. He was crying too. Crying for her, crying for Melodia. "You're wondering why you exist, if you're like a spiriter or a malideiter. If you are beyond fate now, or still part of this world."

"How can I know?" she whispered. "No one can tell me. I _was _born into this world but when I died, was I still a part of it? I cannot describe death to you; I do not remember what it is like. If I was not a part of it any longer, when Grandfather brought me back, am still no longer a part of it? Will I die naturally again or linger on?"

Kalas could not answer. He felt that she had a thousand more questions on her tongue and in her heart, but she could not voice them all. "Even you don't know," Melodia said quietly, angrily. "No one does. Even _he_ doesn't!" She gestured to the book on the floor. "Ever since I returned home, I have wondered. At first, I obsessively searched through the books in my Grandfather's library. Yet, although I read everything, nothing could tell me what _my_ fate will be. No one can tell me how my story will end."

Kalas held her tightly. She was lost too, probably more so than he was. Much as he missed _her_ Kalas still had a life. A real, true life. Melodia was different. Another exception, he thought ruefully. Sagi was an exception; Baelheit was an exception; Xelha was an exception; Kalas too, and now also Melodia. In their own ways, they were _all_ exceptions, doomed (or blessed?) to be different from everyone. Indeed, even Malpercio had been an exception. Because of that though, because of that defining and linking quality between them, none of them were the same sort of "exceptions"—he could not answer Melodia's queries. No "normal" person could either for they were not exceptions. Either way, exceptions were alone in the world.

But it didn't matter. "I can't give you any of the answer's you seek," Kalas murmured into her hair. "No one—dead or alive—can tell you what you want to know. But I can support you. I'm here for you, Melodia. All of us are here for you."

"I don't want your support," she said.

_But you need it,_ Kalas knew. "I know," he replied. "That's fine; it doesn't change anything."

Melodia drew away then and turned toward the door. "I will find an answer," she said defiantly, "Somehow, somewhere, I will find an answer to all of my questions."

"I will pray for your success," Kalas said sincerely.

Melodia did not reply to that. She stood motionless in front of the door for a long moment without turning her head to look back. Kalas remained stationary watching her, drinking in her petite form, her straight back. She was unlike anyone else he knew. She was brittle, breakable, frail, wounded. He wanted to protect her just as a big brother would, but he knew she would never let him. He'd have to do it anyway, without her permission or her approval. Melodia left him then as silently as she had come. She was a ghost, silent and distant, but she was not invisible or incorporeal.

Kalas retrieved the book from the floor and gazed at the plain cover. Between Baelheit and Sagi, somehow Kalas was able to understand just a little bit better the ways of the world, and the ways of spiriters. Nothing ever went according to plan, to fate. Not everything had an answer, after all, and he was lucky his questions had even possible answers.

He placed the little book on the desk.

_Goodbye._

He wasn't sure who that was directed at: _her_, or his past self.


End file.
